Where There's a Will

by Virginia Hale

  “You can’t rush art, Beth.”

  She layered the cucumber circles—just five, thinly sliced—and with a light sprinkle of pepper, covered the identical sandwich with a top layer of bread.

  “See?” she asked Beth as she slipped the new sandwich into Belinda’s container.

  Beth lifted the transparent container like a prized artefact. “Ahh, yes.” She pinched the air beside her temple and imitated the slide of imaginary glasses down the slope of her nose. Or was she pretending to adjust her monocle? “Excellent work,” she judged, her eyes narrowed on the folds of bread. “Perfect form. Why, it’s remarkable.” She squinted harder. “The panel gives it a ten out of ten.”

  Dylan grinned, reaching out to take the container from her grasp. “The panel does, does it?”

  She laughed, her breath hot on Dylan’s wrist. “Oh, the panel is supremely impressed with—”

  The gift shop buzzer sounded in the kitchen, announcing a finished tour. Belinda must have led her tour out the north face. Through the screen door, they could see that she was crossing the parking bay, heading toward the house.

  “She’s coming, she’s coming!” Beth’s heels tapped loudly across the floor as she paced back and forth. “Quickly!”

  Dylan slid the container into its original spot in the fridge. “Jesus, calm down!” she instructed. “You look like you’re the one who needs the Ritalin.”

  She swiped the tomato into the sink. “Get the loaf!” Beth lunged for the loaf and tossed it into the cupboard beneath the sink.

  The door opened.

  Beth gripped the back of a kitchen chair in her hands. Dylan lifted the remainder of her meat pie to her lips.

  Belinda paused.

  “Hot one for you, Belinda?” Dylan asked. She shot a glare at Beth, who was chancing glances at the tomato in the sink. Remind me never to rob a bank with her.

  Obviously curious to know if Beth mentioned her accusation to Dylan, she eyed the both of them as she rounded the table to the fridge. “Mhmm,” Belinda murmured. “When you’ve finished your lunch, Dylan, there are three guests waiting for you.” She closed the fridge and popped open the lid of the sandwich container.

  Beth shifted on the spot. Slowly, Dylan chewed a mouthful of pie.

  “Belinda,” Dylan started, watching as she took her first bite, “maybe before you jump to conclusions next time, you could have a chat with me?”

  “Jump to conclusions?” Belinda asked dumbly.

  “Yeah. Like go bitching behind my back to Beth about me ‘stealing’ from the till. You know,” she took another bite of her pie, “shit like that.”

  Beth cleared her throat. “Okay, okay.” Dylan watched as she reached behind herself and grasped the counter. “I think we all need to call a truce.”

  Silence.

  “Belinda?” Beth asked. “Do we have another problem? Your expression tells me that there’s something you’d like to say…”

  No, Beth, that’s just her face.

  Ignoring Beth, Belinda looked to Dylan. “I find it amusing that you struggle to follow protocol.” She chanced a glance at Beth, then back at Dylan. “That you’re permitted to disregard protocol.”

  Dylan scoffed. Way to push it with the boss, lady.

  The sight of the pink blush seeping up Beth’s neck tickled Dylan to no end. She leaned back into the corner of the counter and reached for her glass of lemonade. She took a sip as she looked between Beth and Belinda. This is better than a front row seat to the Battle of the Sexes.

  “Dylan is entirely trustworthy, Belinda. She arrives late sometimes, yes, but she stays back.”

  Belinda took another bite of her sandwich.

  Beth stood straighter. “I’m not sure why you two have such a hard time getting along, but can we please begin again?”

  Belinda pursed her lips. Dylan took another bite. I’m not agreeing if she’s not.

  Beth sighed. “So that we can all keep our jobs?”

  Dylan nodded. Belinda nodded.

  Before Dylan headed out, she caught Beth’s eye.

  Trying to conceal her smile, Beth shook her head, and the realisation struck Dylan hard. It had been a long time since she’d looked at Beth and felt anything but happy. She’d wasted weeks trying to convince herself that she was waiting—waiting to get her life back on track, waiting see if she could ever stop mourning what they had lost. Somewhere along the line, without her realising, she already had.

  Dylan crept up the back stairs to the second floor. From the top of the landing, she spied Beth in Garland’s bedroom at the end of the hallway, her back to the door, rehanging laundered curtains. Bingo. Avoiding the creaking boards, she continued, taking the second flight up to the loft. Quietly, she closed the door behind her.

  Beth had left the computer on, but she’d logged out. Password? Dylan danced her fingers on the edge of the desk. Unlike Belinda, she knew the six-digit code Beth had chosen for the safe. It was easy to remember—Elma’s birthday. Beth had always used it, even for the four-pin lock they’d used for the old gift shop till. She punched it in. Voila!

  The system beep-bopped as it logged her in. “Shhh,” she berated the computer, wincing as she looked to the door. She opened the timesheet. Just as she thought—Beth hadn’t amended Dylan’s hours. Beth, Beth, Beth, she tsked. Dylan had been almost forty minutes late that morning, and she didn’t deserve to be paid for that hour. If Belinda checked the online roster later that night and saw that Dylan had been paid six hours and not the five she’d actually worked, all hell would break loose. As it was, the budget was already tight. With a few clicks, she adjusted her hours. She didn’t need Belinda kicking up a stink and getting Beth into trouble, especially after her comment about Beth playing favourites.

  The second she closed the timesheet, the preview box flashed in the corner of the screen. An email—to Beth, from Brian. Dylan only had to read the three-sentence preview for her heart to drop. She scanned her eyes over the words, read them a second time with dread. Brian, she thought, I know you’re a good bloke, and I know you mean well, but why are you out to ruin my life?

  At the sound of Beth’s voice, Dylan looked to the door. Beth had moved closer down the hallway, and she was singing a Tom Petty song. Dylan’s heart skipped a beat as she stilled, her hand light on the mouse, just…listening.

  She looked back to the preview of Brian’s email, and logged out.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Beth hauled the new bedspread into Sarah’s room and deposited it by the bed.

  Pushing open the double windows, she paused to catch her breath. Coolness kissed her collarbones as she stared out to Old Quarry Road, her vision blurred by the downpour. The rain was deafening. She appraised the bright grey sky and inhaled the crisp scent carried up to the second floor by the cool afternoon breeze. Clear weather was predicted later, the Eta Aquariids supposed to be visible after nightfall. That was no longer looking likely.

  The curtains breathed in and out, caressing Beth’s hair as she turned, her gaze tracking over the old bedspread. It was almost threadbare and it clashed with the lime green wallpaper. Beth wrenched it off and tossed it into the corner. Finding a replacement coverlet that kept with the rest of the décor had been difficult, and expensive.

  “Want some help?”

  Beth started, looking up to find Dylan in the doorway. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  Dylan crossed the room to the bed and reached for a corner.

  “Thank you,” Beth murmured gratefully. She’d already thrown the freshly laundered covers over three queens and a single, and the muscles in her arms were beginning to burn.

  “New bedspread,” Dylan said as she pulled her side down.

  “Yeah.” She nodded to the heap of blue on the floor by Sarah’s dresser. “That one was looking a bit tattered. I thought of replacing them all, but the budget’s not really giving much wiggle room at the moment.” Her gaze fell to the floor. The edge of the bedspread hovered a couple of
inches from the rug. “How are we on your side? Are we even?”

  She looked up to find that Dylan’s focus wasn’t on the bedspread—instead, it was on her. The second their eyes locked, Dylan blushed. She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Yeah,” she mumbled, “we’re even.”

  As they pushed two pillows under the top panel of the comforter, Beth stole glances across the bed.

  “Where’s Belinda?” Dylan asked, frowning as she smoothed her side of the bedspread over the pillow.

  “She’s gone home.”

  “Thank you for defending me the other day,” Dylan said softly.

  Beth tugged at the bedspread. “She was in the wrong.”

  “Still. You’re supposed to be impartial.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Beth grinned at her, but Dylan’s smile seemed forced. Troubled. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  Beth looked at her quizzically. “So, I need to send the contract before the weekend. Do you mind looking at it tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Beth watched Dylan sign her name on the line next to her own.

  “I hope this rain eases,” Beth muttered as she folded the pages back over and slipped them into the large envelope. “I was hoping to see the Eta Aquariids.”

  “Oh,” Dylan said as she poured herself a glass of water. “That’s tonight?”

  Beth nodded. “I missed Halley’s Comet. Figured I could at least tick seeing its meteor shower off my bucket list.”

  “You have binoculars?”

  “No.”

  “Well you’re probably not going to see it all that well without them.” She took a sip from her glass. “Ideally, you’d have a telescope.”

  Beth sighed. “I don’t.” She paused. “I guess I’ll just hope for the best.”

  Dylan pursed her lips. Her eyes locked on Beth’s. “I’ve got one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Steeling herself, Dylan drew a deep breath.

  She could see Beth sitting on the front step on the north veranda, with Sarah’s old comforter wrapped around her. Dylan watched as she rolled Aeroguard across the back of the neck, and around, Dylan assumed, to the exposed, freckled skin above her neckline.

  The rain had stopped, the sky had cleared, and the temperature had plummeted. Dylan had taken pillows from the deck chairs and they’d spent the evening seated beside each other on the steps of the north veranda, making small talk and eating the pizza Dylan had picked up when she’d gone to her parents’ garage for the telescope.

  But the opportunity Dylan needed to speak up had yet to arise. Brian’s email had been the wake-up call she needed. She couldn’t lose Beth again. Finding the nerve to tell Beth that she was ready, that she wanted more for them, was harder than she thought.

  As she neared the front door, the boards outside the sitting room creaked beneath her weight and Beth turned to look up. Dylan smiled down at her, her nerves sparking like fireflies. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants and leaned against the veranda post. “So, the floodlight won’t turn off…”

  “Really? It just won’t turn off?” Beth asked. She took a sip of the dessert wine, a gift from the Association to celebrate a fantastic batch of new reviews after a busy summer season.

  “It’s on a solar-powered…It’s…I don’t know, it just won’t turn off.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “We’re not gonna see it if we stay here. Too bright.” She bent down to the children’s telescope and twisted the friction lock until the legs collapsed. “Come on, let’s go down to the dam.” She picked the telescope up by the legs and tucked it under her arm. “Quick or we’ll miss it!”

  Beth didn’t move.

  “What, scared of snakes?”

  “It’ll be muddy.” Her gaze dropped to her feet as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m wearing my good heels…”

  “So take ’em off.”

  “I’m not traipsing through the bush without shoes!” She stopped at the base of the steps.

  With a huff, Dylan shifted the telescope under her arm. So, she’s going to be more difficult than I thought… “Hold on, I’ve got it.”

  She pulled open the back door of her car and reached across the floor until she had both gumboots. When she tossed them toward the veranda, they fell with a smack at the step below Beth’s feet.

  “Fine,” Beth said as she picked them up.

  As Dylan watched Beth peel off her heels and tuck her cropped pants into the gumboots, she thought about the last time they’d been out to the dam together—winter, just weeks before they’d first slept together. It had been quiet, tranquil, romantic. They’d sat at the top of the slight hill above the dam, tossing stale bread to the ducks as Dylan talked about the time she’d seen Fleetwood Mac at the Hope Estate, an open-air concert venue in Pokolbin, just years before. Beth had suggested they go together to see Stevie Nicks there when she toured later that year. But weeks later, Beth had returned to Sydney and Stevie Nicks’ tour bus had come and gone.

  Shaking the thought, she felt around in the back of the Jeep for the torch. Just as she grasped it, the back of her hand brushed plastic.

  Beth nodded at the plastic curtain tucked under Dylan’s arm. “What’s that?”

  “A mat…of sorts. You know, in case it’s muddy and you throw a tanty.” She watched Beth struggle to wrap the bedspread around her shoulders like a beach towel. It was enormous, a hefty bundle, and in the gumboots, Beth was only so tall. Dylan held back a laugh. “Bring the wine, too.”

  As Beth bent to the floor, she attempted to collect the pillows, both glasses as well as the bottle. With the bedspread around her neck.

  “Hey, fancy,” Dylan laughed, walking backward across the turning circle as she watched Beth, “Give me the pillows. Just bring the bloody bottle.”

  She turned the torch on as they headed out to the dam, the yellow light bouncing across the top of the long, thick grass. In the dark, Dylan’s senses narrowed. She snuck a glance at Beth beside her. Without her heels, they were no longer the same height, and with Beth a few inches shorter, it made her feel protective. It made her want.

  “Did you go through a space phase?” Beth asked.

  “Huh?”

  “The telescope.”

  “Oh. Nah. It was Kyle’s.”

  Beth was quiet. “It’s nice that you still have it,” she said after a long moment.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  Beth staggered closer to follow the torchlight. “How far are we going?” Beth asked.

  “All the way to the dam. We need to get as far away from the light of the house as possible otherwise the floodlight will ruin it.”

  “I can barely see a thing already. I’m going to break an ankle. Do roos come out at night?” she rambled. “I love my friend Skippy but I don’t want to get sucker punched.”

  Dylan laughed. “No. I promise you we’re safe. Hey, watch your step over this patch, it’s really slippery.”

  “God, I’m glad you had these gumboots.” The night was still, the chirp of the cicadas unusually quiet at the edge of the dam. “This meteor shower better be worth it,” Beth chuckled. “I’m about to lose feeling in my neck from the weight of this bedspread.”

  “I’ll be quick,” said Dylan, as she spread out the shower curtain.

  “Oh my god,” Beth gasped as Dylan waved the mat down. “You kept that! Are you sure you want to sit on it? Get it all dirty?”

  “It’ll hose down.” She took the wine bottle from Beth’s grip and set it down at the edge of the curtain next to the torch. When the telescope was set up at the side of the mat, Dylan reached around Beth’s shoulders and scooped the bedspread up as Beth ducked low, laughing. Beth rolled her neck in relief. “God, that weighed a ton.”

  “You sure it’s okay if this bedspread gets dirty?” Dylan asked as they each took two corners and folded it in half for extra padding. “I’ve already walke
d a bit of mud onto the mat…”

  “It’s fine. It was time to toss it anyway.”

  Dylan adjusted the telescope until she located Aquarius, the constellation closest to where the meteor shower was expected. Beth sat forward on the bedspread to look into the telescope. Dylan lay back and linked her hands behind her head on a pillow.

  She indulged in the comfortable silence as she looked up at the half-moon, her heart imploring her to find the moment. She dropped her gaze back to Beth. Her back was to Dylan, and Dylan wished she had the courage to reach out and run her hand over the silkiness of Beth’s navy cardigan. Beth had swapped the stiffness of the blazer for the cardigan after work, and Dylan had been lusting to touch it ever since. It made her seem softer somehow, more Beth. Dylan wanted to trace her fingers along the ridges of her spine, feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath through the fabric.

  Beth pulled back from the telescope and grinned. She held Dylan’s gaze. Her face was free of makeup, her lips their natural pink, glossy with balm.

  “I want to know something,” Dylan confessed.

  “Yes?”

  “What did you do with my toilet?” she asked.

  Beth smiled.

  Her forehead creased. “What did you do with it?” she repeated.

  Beth leaned back on her elbows. With a smug grin, she fastened the top buttons of her cardigan against the cold. “I dropped it off in the bush behind the servo.”

  She whistled. “Gutsy.”

  Beth’s grin broke into a full-fledged smile. “It’s still there, actually. Well, I think. I was filling up the other week and I could see white through the bushes.”

  Dylan clicked her tongue. “Unbelievable.”

  “Gutsy.” Beth sat up. She took the wine bottle from Dylan and brought it to her lips. “So how are we going to do this? You look first and then me?”

  “No, you can go first. Get a good look. You’re already thirty-eight. God knows how many meteor showers you have left to experience.”

  Beth swatted her arm, but as the moment passed, the intensity of her gaze heated Dylan’s cheeks. Beth’s lips were parted, her eyes heavy-lidded. Nobody, Dylan thought, had ever looked at her—studied her—like this.